


Oppai Blues

by Vyudali



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Don't Judge Me, Incest, M rating is because this is kind of out there not because there's sex, M/M, Male Lactation, One Shot, Polyamorous relationship, Sexual Assault, i guess? depending on how you interpret the end, not intended though, of the boobies, secret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 14:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13503771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vyudali/pseuds/Vyudali
Summary: America has had lactating problems for years, Canada being the only one who knows and has been helping him the easiest way. Recently, though, the issue has gotten worse and Canada can’t keep up. While America laments his predicament, two curious nations might be the solution he’s been looking for.





	Oppai Blues

**Author's Note:**

> This is so shameless and written like a bad porno (without the sex) I apologize. There was no way I was going to be able to draw this so I wrote it - and since I actually finished it I figured I'd post it. Prepare for bad writing.  
> (America is OOC half-way through as well sorry.)
> 
> This is my first time posting something to this site and I couldn't get the 'RusAme -Relationship' tag to revert to only 'RusAme' so rest assured this is an equal partnership between him and Turkey and is not solely focused on RusAme.

 “ _Please_ , Matthew? I thought you liked sweets.”

“That’s the problem, Alfred. It’s _too_ sweet, and you have more of it somehow! I can’t drink it all anymore.”

America groaned in agony, rubbing his temples in frustration. “How the hell did this happen? It’s been constant for years so why now?”

“Maybe you’re pregnant?”

America gave his brother a deadpanned look.

“Pregnant women lactate more,” The other reasoned.

America scoffed. “I’m not a woman. And I haven’t had any in a while. Pretty sure if I did it was some random lady at a bar somewhere. They can’t get me pregnant.”

“Stranger things have happened, Al. You should know that out of everyone.”

Again, his brother groaned. He pulled at his hair in agitation.

“What am I going to do? And no, not that,” America stopped Canada as he opened his mouth, knowing what he’d suggest. “They’re still not big enough.”

Canada sighed in exasperation. He turned his back to his brother, continuing to sort an outfit for the meeting they would be attending today. “They might be if they keep growing. It could be a sign that you should just suck it up -”

“-or YOU could man-up and suck it –“

“No!” He turned to face America with a frown on his usually soft-featured face. “I want to help you, I really do, but I can’t drink anymore,” Canada whined, rubbing his belly. He’d had a big breakfast today and pancakes for desert. He loved sweet foods but adding his brother’s oddly-sweeter milk unsettled his stomach. Too much sugar. Only someone with a sweeter tooth than his could withstand it all, and the only one he knew of was currently lying on his bed in front of him, lamenting his life in their shared hotel room

 It was odd, even now. Sometimes he felt like they should tell someone about America’s lactation problem. Lactating wasn’t unheard of in men, after all, only rare. Sure, America produced a lot of milk given the circumstances, but surely there was another – maybe even a nation like them – who shared the abnormality.

America had accommodated over the years but still had problems accepting it. Canada remembered when his brother had confessed to him, seeing America close to crying breaking him into suggesting a simple yet, at the time, odd solution.

America produced more than he should yet never an amount Canada couldn’t drink up. He liked milk and his sibling’s tasted no different – only sweeter.

As brothers it was an awkward arrangement. Despite both males having seen each other naked many times before, the first few times America refused to even remove his shirt- too embarrassed of his body and watching Canada suckle him in what he viewed as an intimate way.

Canada had also been uncomfortable knowing that if anyone walked in they’d assume the worst. As he matured he was often reminded of how the act was normally only reserved for lovers.

Another part of him felt guilty that he liked it. America’s milk was tasty – that, he couldn’t deny. Drinking it bested the _other_ issue with his brother’s unique biology.

“F-fine. Just a little more but that’s it for the week,” Canada relented, inching back onto the bed and his brother’s lying form. “If it gets worse I’m buying you the pump,” he added under his breath, scowling.

America’s smile returned, relief washing his features. His shirt had already been removed so he simply resumed his position flat on his back with his hands resting on his stomach. Canada approached slowly, positioning his arms on each side of his brother’s body. He could see every muscle, which only accentuated the fact that where pecs should be to illustrate his brother’s intense workout routines, soft fat had taken its place. It almost looked like America was growing breasts, which did worry him.

Lactation they could hide, but C-cup breasts? He briefly wondered if he should buy a binder – just in case. The amount America produced had been increasing recently, and if he started growing breasts that meant what Canada couldn’t drink had to be accumulating. It was only a matter of time. . .

Canada’s lips met one of America’s soft buds. He began sucking gently, eager to get as much milk out as possible. Full as he felt he enjoyed how the delicious taste washed over his tongue and down his throat.

“Ngh. .. _ah_. . ..“ Ah, _there_ it was.

“ _Ahh_ ,” America moaned. Canada could hear him try to stifle it but failed and a soft groan, followed by short, uneven moans spilled from his lips.

Canada could feel his face redden at each sound. The milk he could handle, but there was no real way to suck it out without tickling the extra-sensitive nipple. Honestly, he wouldn’t mind helping his brother as much if he didn’t do _that_. Canada never got used to the idea of being the person who made his brother moan that way, which only increased his stance that America should deal with the problem himself.

Attempting to retain his masculine dignity, America refused to buy breast pumps for years. Why he’d prefer his brother suck his tit instead is something Canada still couldn’t comprehend.

For now he ignored these thoughts in favor of finishing his current task as quickly as possible.

\---------------------------------

Down the hall were a pair of tall, burly nations who struggled to make sense of what they’d just witnessed.

“T-they looked like they were –“

“I know, but . . . they are brothers, are they not?”

“Not the first time I’ve heard of it happening amongst our kind, honestly. Still, I’d think they’d be the more vanilla pair. That was pretty kinky.”

Russia hummed, agreeing. Never in his lifetime did he think he’d witness Canada pleasuring his own brother, much less enjoy the show. America’s lithe, muscularly sculpted body did things to him he never would admit.

He felt guilty having witnessed a clearly private, intimate, moment between the two but he really hadn’t meant to. Pure chance led him and Turkey down the same hall on their way to his hotel room to discuss business, only to stop their trot at the sound of muffled speaking and a crack in the door to Canada’s shared hotel room. Curious, the two nations couldn’t help but keep watching, transfixed by the display.

Now sitting in Russia’s room to contemplate their discovery, unlike Russia, Turkey didn’t seem all that bothered by it- only surprised. Once that surprise wore off, though, he wouldn’t stop mentioning how hot it made him. The American brothers weren’t unattractive, and hearing America – a usually boastful nation- moan shy and sweet had his interest picked.

They were both curious.

\---------------------------------

The next day began like no other, sans the noticeable absence of one person. Many wondered where he could be - some for completely different reasons than the rest.

Attention was given to Canada when he entered the room alone.

“Where is America?” England asked, quick to approach.

“He wasn’t feeling well so I told him to rest in his room until tomorrow,” Canada replied smoothly, setting his briefcase on the meeting table and pulling out multiple papers. “I have his notes so we can discuss what he brought anyway.”

Seeming satisfied, England nodded and began to discuss the topics covered. The meeting continued uninterrupted (for the most part) for all but two nations, who saw a chance to quickly sneak out unnoticed.

Turkey and Russia hurried towards the room they knew America was assigned to share with his brother. They hoped Canada hadn’t been completely lying, knowing America couldn’t possibly be sick and more likely tired after their coupling the night before. What else could it be? America hardly ever got sick.

In an almost frenzied gait the duo reached their destination and were quick to knock. They wanted to quell their curiosity as soon as possible - and possibly offer a _partnership_ of sorts. Canada would refuse, being the more level-headed of the twins, but cornering a flustered America would be likelier to yield results.

Unfortunately for them, no one answered. The silence of the hall mocked them – two grown immortals shifting on their feet, waiting for the arrival of uncertainty.

Patience running thin, Russia clicked his tongue and reached for the knob.

Turkey quickly grabbed his wrist. “What are you doing?” He hissed.

“Perhaps he is in the restroom.” Russia reasoned as if it were obvious. “I don’t want to risk him locking us out before he explains himself. You know how America and I do not always…see eye to eye.”

Seeming to think about it, Turkey soon nodded and released his wrist. “Good point, but how are you going to get it open? Hotels don’t have usual locks anymore, you know.”

Russia scoffed. “How else do you get it open?” He laughed before gripping the knob tight and pushing. The door didn’t stand a chance for it opened with the sounds of cracking wood and scraping metal as splintered wood fell to the floor.

Turkey gaped as Russia entered the room.

He soon followed, surveying the spacious area for the nation they’d come to interrogate. The bed was empty and tv sitting on a dresser across from it off. Russia’s assault on the door must have been heard from deeper inside, though, because they could hear an approaching patter of steps and a voice calling from inside the nearby restroom.

“Done already? Thank god! I think they got bigger, bro, you have to-“

The voice’s owner stopped mid-step. Having barely come out of the bathroom, there stood America clad in a pair of boxers and an unbuttoned, blue collared shirt, exposing the supple roundness of his noticeably voluptuous chest – a chest which curiously leaked white liquid.

“You’re a girl?!” Turkey exclaimed, his gaze fixated on America’s pectorals. Plump yet still retaining their square pectoral definition – only a bit of downward bulge - with rosy wet nipples secreting milk.

Russia moved first, advancing upon the other in two quick strides. Coming out of his shock, America jumped and began to back away, arms in front to cover his shame.

“The fuck are you two doing here!? W-wait - back off. I-I can explain!” he stuttered, too struck with the events that any coherent words were lost. He let out a short shriek of surprise when Russia pushed him backwards onto the hotel bed, his body bouncing from the impact and allowing the shirt to pool at his sides, exposing more of his lactating nipples.

Utterly embarrassed, he could feel himself turning red - even more so when Russia captured his wrists in a firm hold and pressed them to the bedding, those cold violet eyes of his staring right into his soul.

“Please do,” Russia’s grinned.

Turkey appeared next to him, one thick brow raised in amusement.

America knew he was cornered. His eyes shifted around the room for an escape finding none – his breathing quickened and teeth bit down on his lower lip. Despite the jitters he stared both nations in the eye, trying to challenge any opinions of him that may change from what he was about to reveal.

“It’s... milk, okay? I don’t know why it happens but it does and I know I’m weird but please don’t tell anyone!”

“Milk?” Russia didn’t seem horrified – that was good at least. If anything, America noticed, his eye were wide with childlike curiosity.

“Milk!“ Blurted Turkey whose mind seemed incapable of processing America’s confession.

America grew frustrated. He could feel his face grow hot and tried to push Russia away without success. The other seemed to be stuck, his curious eyes fixated on one thing only as if contemplating. Slowly, he began to lean down.

Noticing this America tried to lean away by pushing himself deeper into the bedding.

“What – what are you doing?! R-Russia st- _ah_!” America moaned. Oh _fuck_ did that feel good. America’s heated skin grew more sensitive when Russia’s colder lips circled, licked, and sucked on his left nipple, the milk draining out of him with each glutinous suck Russia took. He could feel himself involuntarily arching into the touch.

Turkey, now out of his momentary stupor and encourage by Russia, took a spot next to America’s free side on the bed. America’s eyes widened at his arrival, heavy breaths escaping him in between moans.

Two nations knew his secret.

_Holy shit._

 “W-wait! Stop you guys! Y-you _ah_ .. .”

Turkey had taken America’s right nipple into his mouth and sucked. His tongue twirled around the bud, eager to lap up more of the delicious milk.  Turkey felt fingers in his hair but ignored the obvious pushing from America, too engrossed in the enticing flavor of the other’s milk. He couldn’t believe a nation could create something to tasty.

New sensations and tastes engulfed them into a trance as the milk continued coming and slid down their throats. However, they stopped upon the sound of stifled sniffling – looking up in shock to see tears running down America’s face.

“Y-you. . . _know_.” He hiccupped. “N-Now everyone’s going to know I’m weird a-and laugh and .. .make fun of me. . . “

Seeing the opportunity America quickly covered his chest with his forearms and used his hands to cover his wettened face, although his sniffles and attempts to keep the sobs rising from his lungs were still heard and he visibly shook with each attempt to stifle them. The two larger nations were flabbergasted and- admittedly – completely guilt-ridden at seeing such a usually confident nation reduced to tears because of their intruding- because of their _assault_.

Ashamed upon that realization their attitudes switched completely. Russia pulled America to his chest, embracing the other comfortingly. Turkey rubbed the other’s back while shushing him.

“America,” Turkey tried speaking as softly as possible, “Please don’t cry. Look, we’re sorry okay? We. . . we couldn’t help ourselves we just. . ..“ Shit - what kind of excuse was that?

America’s shaking noticeably weakened, despite the awful excuse. Russia felt him cuddle closer to him and it game him hope that the boy was calming down. He still refused to uncover his face, though.

“We are sorry, America. We . . .stumbled upon you and Canada in the act last night. Your door was cracked.” Russia could feel America stiffen in his hold. “But we did not think any lesser of you. It was . . .strange, and we were curious. That is all. We were not planning to blackmail you or anything like that.”

“Truthfully, I thought it was kind of hot.” Turkey flinched at the glare Russia sent him. “You did, too! Don’t know about you but I was going to ask for a threesome after we got an explanation.”

 “We will not tell anyone,” Russia assured America, ignoring Turkey at this point. Clearly the other didn’t care for subtlety.  

“Really?” Muttered America, meekly lifting his tear-stained face from Russia’s shoulder to better gauge his and Turkey’s sincerity.

 The two nodded in affirmation so America visibly relaxed, beginning to smile from relief of such a weight.

“On one condition.”

America’s smile disappeared, replaced by a frown. “What condition?” He asked pensively.

“Canada said he does not want to continue his . . .treatments.,” Russia clarified.

Turkey’s eyes lit up in realization and grinned.

 “If possible, I would be glad to take his place.”

“I would, too.”

America’s eyes widened in shock at the proposal. They want to . . ? He turned red, ready to deny these nations he rarely got along with such a ridiculous proposal until . . .

Inside, America felt ire rise at the fact that these two had been snooping for so long – enough to hear the earlier part of his and Canada’s conversation. He should have been more careful!

However, assuming the two kept their promise would it really be bad to have two volunteers replace his brother? The other clearly felt stressed from the act. America noticed Canada become more and more reluctant with each treatment and honestly felt guilt upon forcing his brother to help him.

. . . He still didn’t want to get breast pumps. Canada wouldn’t bitch anymore. Why not?

“I,” he swallowed, suddenly nervous. “I guess that would be okay. Yeah! This way I won’t burden Canada with my mess anymore, and – I mean – if you guys are ok with sucking some dude’s tits it’s a win-win, right?”

His confidence increased the more he reasoned with himself. Watching both Turkey and Russia light up upon his approval only confirmed his decision and soon they were all cheerfully agreeing, the previously tense atmosphere erased in favor of a more carefree one as three nations made a contract of sorts while situated in a messy hotel bed after skipping a world meeting.

The sight of two large nations dressed in suits while the third wore only boxers and an open, shriveled shirt would have made for quite the sight.

Turkey abruptly stopped, then pointed to a noticeably wet dot on America’s thigh.

They all looked to America’s chest where milk began to leak from both nipples.

“Again?! What the fuck!” America reached for a pillow, already thinking of wiping away the milk with the pillowcase. Russia was quick to grasp his wrist, though.

“May we?” He suggested, tilting his head towards an eager Turkey.

Suddenly shy, America nodded.

He sat up properly to slowly remove his shirt ( and unintentionally exciting the two larger nations before him) letting it settle on the bed where it wouldn’t be further stained. Once that was done he settled onto his back, allowing himself to be ravished once again – this time willingly.

\---------------------------------

The next morning Canada bumped into America on his way to the meeting room. Immediate guilt ate at him from their conversation the day before. He did worry for America’s condition but felt his brother needed weaning from his services if he was ever going to find a proper cure.  Holding strong to that conviction Canada tried to look hardened and ready to dispute whatever excuse America may have conjured overnight.

To his surprise America didn’t seem upset, though. Instead, his brother practically beamed on his way towards him, confidence palpable by his long strides and arch of his back.

_Maybe he accepted the inevitable? That would be good._

“Hey bro! I got good news,” his brother boasted in typical fashion.

“What is it?” Canada replied, hesitant.

Nations began to roam the halls, so America leaned closer – Canada mirroring the act to prevent anyone from overhearing.

America’s voice lowered and he explained, “You don’t have to . . . .uh, do that _thing_ for me anymore. I found my own solution.”

“You did?” Canada gasped, smiling. “That’s great!” _He finally got the pumps, huh_.

“Finally ordered those pumps, huh?” He whispered, smirking. What was the point of hiding his thoughts on this matter? Canada been suggesting them for months and knew they were the right path to, perhaps not fix, but stabilize America’s lactating - at least temporarily.

America scowled, about to shake his head in denial of such a preposterous claim. Then he realized…

“I guess you could say that, yeah,“ America nodded as if just having an epiphany. This completely caught Canada, who didn’t expect such compliance, by surprise.

“Point is, you won’t be bothered by me to do it anymore.”

Canada was speechless. How did a century-old issue completely disappear just like that? Canada grew suspicious and quite honestly a bit worried for whatever trade America made have done in exchange for a quick fix.

 “I-I see,” Canada started. “That’s wonderful, Alfred. What exactly are you –“

Suddenly America’s name floated above many heads. Captured by the call of his name America turned and – to Canada’s continued shock and frustration – glowed at the sight of Russia and Turkey walking their way. His brother waved enthusiastically before turning back to Canada looking apologetic.

“I’ll explain later – gotta talk with my peeps. See ya!”

Disappearing by his side shortly after the three nations made their way down the hall, America taking the spot between them. He turned and waved before following the taller pair out of sight.

“Enjoy your freedom! “Canada heard him call.

Speechless once again, Canada stood frozen to his spot. Enjoy his freedom, he says? How can he when he doesn’t know exactly how America fixed his problem? What if the solution was temporary and America relapsed? Since when did America hang out with _Russia_ and _Turkey_?

Wait.

America may refuse to read the atmosphere, but Canada did not. The reality hit him immediately after that thought. Much like America earlier he could feel his face grow hot and attempted to chase away any images of America with Russia and Turkey together.

So, his brother found volunteers? He supposed that solution worked quite well.  Canada thought it impressive that his brother – the nation too embarrassed about having boobs that he refused to use public swimming pools if he so much as thought a dot of milk might have leaked from his nipples – would allow two more nations to know of his secret, much less help him lessen the burden.

No more America begging him to drink; no more sneaking around for a quiet place between meetings; no more late-night calls from across the border . . . Canada smiled at feeling a great weight lifted from his shoulders.

He wouldn’t ever have to drink America’s milk!

Canada stopped – frozen mid-step half-way from the door to the meeting room.

So he wouldn’t get to taste it anymore?

The thought made him sad. Perhaps even . . . jealous?

 

Oh no.


End file.
